The Punishment
Jen swayed minutely back and forth. This was new. The saliva, which she had not been able to stop escaping her mouth due to the ball gag, was about to drip from the end of her chin.
'What if it hits her?' She thought as she flexed her fingers, trying to ease the pressure. Her arms were pulled behind her back; rope bound them along their length resulting in her shoulders being pulled back, her breasts therefore pushed forward.
Her legs were also tied up; her feet pulled back and up behind her where they were attached to the main rope that descended from the ceiling. It was the ceiling rope that was attached to the harness strapped about her waist. She was currently hanging from this. Horizontal, she floated above the office furniture, winched on high, held up by the waist harness.
Two more ropes came off the harness, up between her dangling breasts, over her shoulders and back again to join her feet at the main ceiling rope. A final cord came off the bottom of the harness and was pulled tightly between her legs, applying pressure across her clit and pussy, and holding in place a plug that had been inserted into her arse.
She was a good ten feet up. When she had arrived in the office and her Mistress had started to strap her up, it was like many a scene they had played out before in the weeks and months in which her Mistress had progressively trained her, used her. As so often before, her Mistress had applied the riding crop to enforce better posture or direct her into the desired position.
Jen remembered how her body had flinched from the strikes and would therefore invite another, rapidly applied to the opposite side, to straighten the posture again. It had become to Jen like a conductor manipulating her body, to the music of sliced air, slapped skin and gasping breaths. And she couldn't deny the thrill it gave her, being the instrument of this music.
But then the harness had been attached and suddenly she was being winched into the air. At first she would have laughed if the ball gag had let her. Swinging helpless in the air in her Mistress' office had seemed like fun. 'What a toy to have!' she had thought. But that had been three hours ago.
What had slowly dawned on Jen was that her Mistress was going to happily leave her dangling there while she got on with the rest of her day. She was winched high enough not be noticed, unless someone actually looked up at the ceiling. Surely her Mistress wouldn't risk this?!
But here she was now, swaying very slightly above her Mistress' third visitor that morning. The secretary was noting down instructions from Jen's Mistress in a notebook, sat in the chair opposite the desk. Jen could smell her perfume. She could hear the pen scratching on the notepad. The resigned part of her mind got a bizarre thrill from being able to look down the girls' top at the plump cleavage disappearing into a clean white bra.
But the largest part of her mind was preoccupied with the saliva building on the bottom of her chin. It was going to drop, there was nothing Jen could do about that now; the fear was whether the secretary would notice.
Perhaps it was all a set up. Perhaps all the people visiting today were in league with her Mistress. Previous encounters had shown Jen that others knew of her submissiveness. Others seemed to be aware that she belonged to her Mistress. Surely her Mistress wouldn't risk being found out herself - or did she perhaps enjoy the risk? Was it the adrenalin that provided the thrill? Was that what thrilled Jen, or was it the sense of helplessness?
Jen's stomach tensed as the secretary finished writing. What would she do if discovered? How should she act? She imagined pleading with the secretary not to tell anyone, not to reveal her shamefulness. 'Please,' she will beg, 'I'll do anything. Anything you want...' mmm, how often would the secretary call in the favour of her silence? How often might Jen find herself between those legs, so primly held together at the moment with the note pad on top? How nice the secretary's mouth would look, in an oval gasp as Jen's tongue worked its magic on her sweet scented pussy...
The saliva dropped, Jen watched as it seemed to tumble in slow-motion through the air forming a sphere in its freefall towards the notebook. Jen mentally slapped herself, how could she be allowing herself erotic thoughts at a time like this. Her stomach was in her throat, her eyes fixed on the descending slobber.
As the saliva fell the secretary began to close her notebook; the cover flipped over as the saliva fell towards it, fell past it. It had just missed the notebook and headed towards the woman's shoe. It landed with a soft
pat
. Jen's gaze switched instantly from the impact site to the secretary's face. Had she noticed? The secretary stood up to leave. Jen's eyes followed her as she turned and made her way to the door, still unaware of the naked female form suspended above her.
Jen's heart was thundering in her ears, this was indeed a torture. Once the door was closed again Jen looked down at her Mistress and realised that the woman had been watching her. She appeared to be chuckling. Jen gave out a little whine, seeking sympathy. Hoping to sound like a pet that has learnt its lesson. Her Mistress toyed with what looked like a remote control on her desk. Jen hoped that it operated the winch.
Her Mistress got up and pulled out the riding crop, giving Jen a few strokes around her body. Jen squirmed and swayed, squeaking through the gag.
"Oh I do like my new trophy" she said, making Jen swing again.
She then turned back to her desk picked up the remote control and pressed the button. Jen's body jerked as she felt sensations inside her arse, vibrating against the walls of her womb.
'Oh my God,' she thought as she adjusted to the vibrating plug in her arse, 'this is going to be a long day'
The Humiliation
Jen reflected on how her life was full of adventure now. There was no control, but there was plenty of excitement. For months she had been toyed with, played with, abused and cared for by her Mistress. Regardless of the physical or mental strain from the things she was asked to do, she was continually impressed by her Mistress' inventiveness. She felt it was an indication of caring, and this was important to her.
She had become completely wrapped up in her Mistress. She had been seduced and then controlled, the mind games, the comparisons, the training, had all been designed to reinforce these feelings, and they had worked. She lived for her Mistress; she loved her without question. She had practically forgotten her old life and was engulfed in the new. Always different, always exciting, always new - it ran across her mind like a caption on a billboard, advertising an exclusive lifestyle.
Today was new too. She had butterflies in her stomach because she thought she knew what was coming. For the first time since accepting her new life she had been instructed to wear knickers. She had also been ordered not to go to the toilet, and to make sure she drank plenty of fluids. It didn't take a genius to figure out something was planned. But she didn't know what, and therefore her mind was free to wander in erotic directions. Her own mind became the most effective tool to deliver the most erotic ideas direct to her pussy.
It was hard now though. The erotic tingling had turned steadily to concentrated muscle clenching and finally now to desperate straining as the painful pressure built. She had sent several email requests asking for permission to relieve herself but no reply had been received. Then an envelope had arrived.
In it was a wireless earpiece and a mobile phone. She attached the earpiece and activated the phone. Immediately it rang and she answered.
"Make your way to the foyer", her Mistress' voice instructed.
Jen was worried that just getting up and walking would be too difficult for her. She whimpered slightly at the pressure on her bladder as she stood up. She felt sure the liquid inside her would come bursting out, but she managed to hold it. She made her way to the lift, not really seeing the people around her, just focusing now, 'hold it, hold it, hold it'.
She looked up with a forced smile as a man pushed the button for the ground floor, she pretended not to notice him gaze at her cleavage. On the journey down she suspected he was assessing her arse and legs. The bell tinged and the doors opened. People left around her and then she emerged into the office foyer. The granite floor tiles reflected the bodies of the people walking to and fro across the entrance lobby. There were thinly scattered pillars that did little to disrupt the bright light coming in through the windows on either side of the large rotating doors.
"I bet you could do with a pee?" her Mistress teased her from the earpiece.
'Oh no. Surely not.' Jen thought as she gently stepped into the echoing hall. People were coming in and out of the doors, approaching the reception desk, waiting at the lifts or standing in small groups chatting.
"Do you want to pee slut?"
She pressed the earpiece closer to her head, hunched her body, trying to be unnoticed as she walked further into the spacious hall.
"Yes Mistress" she whispered into the earpiece.
Jen knew what was going to happen. She couldn't believe it, but she knew. She kept walking, also knowing that she could not escape and it would happen only when she was in the middle of the room. Perhaps it wasn't what she thought; perhaps her Mistress had something else in mind. She was pacing slowly, as though walking out before a firing squad. A dread sense of the inevitable surrounded her. It dampened the voices in the hall, but did not hide the presence of all the other people. It only made her footsteps sound louder, echoing from the polished surface.
"Pee now." The instruction came.
